


thorns and roses.

by anthotnio



Series: commissions [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Almost Dying, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Insecure Tony, Language of Flowers, Latine Rhodey, Latine Tony, M/M, MIT Era, Mexican Character(s), POV Alternating, Platonic Cuddling, Slow Burn, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, bc i'm mexican and i say so, bc they're STUPID, but it's not platonic, no actual smut bc this is a christian house ok, past abusive relationship, rhodey is amazing at giving hugs and cuddles, rhodey is the absoutle best thank u v much, they need to get their shit together tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 05:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18866503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthotnio/pseuds/anthotnio
Summary: It’s not surprising when he notices he’s got a crush on Rhodey. If anything, it’s just disappointing. Not because James isn’t crush material, on the contrary, Tony is firmly convinced that James Rhodes is an absolute catch and anyone dating him would be the luckiest motherfucker in the whole universe.  But beacuse Tony knows the feelings aren’t reciprocated, and never will be. So there’s no use in hoarding those feelings towards his best and only friend.Plus, not even Rhodey would want Tony, right?





	thorns and roses.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starksnack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/gifts).



> Commission for [@starksnack](https://starksnack.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thanks to [@mbarku](https://mbarku.tumblr.com/), [@fuckmarvel](https://fuckmarvel.tumblr.com/), [@daredvvil](https://daredvvil.tumblr.com/),@dumes-blender & [@morienage](https://morienage.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this fic amazingly and their wonderful input and opinions. 
> 
> I have most of the fic figured out and it's proabably gonna be five chapters long, with maybe an epilogue. I'll try to post once a week or so. I hope you guys like it!

**MIT, 1985  
**

James Rupert Rhodes is, to say the least, an absolute dumbass. He’s not stupid, or, Dios lo prohiba,  _dense_. He’s just a dumbass with a heart too big for his own good. Or that’s what his  _mamá_  tells him over the phone when he calls her at three in the morning, very,  _very_  scared, and with no idea how to deal with the kid currently heaving up his stomach in the bathroom of James’ dorm room.

The kid has been holed up in the bathroom for almost two hours straight now, looking scarily pale and sick. Something at the back of James’ mind keeps telling him to take the poor dude to the doctor, but knowing that it’ll probably just get the kid in trouble, he decides to take the matter into his own hands. Rhodey calls his  _mamá_ , knowing that she’s dealt with James’ brother’s tequila and mezcal hangovers more often than not, and is far more experienced in this area than himself.

Mamá Rhodes walks him through it,  _gracias a Dios_. James does what she says and gets what she asks for – juice of any kind, ibuprofen, a warm bath, a set of fresh clothes, some Vicks Vaporub because every Latine knows that shit’s magical - hoping that the kid doesn’t decide to escape from the room when he isn’t looking. It makes James’ heart clench to just think about it. The kid looked pretty scared when James found him and carried him to his room - his eyes were unfocused and he was crying, but James made no comment, knowing that he could make things worse, and just took him to the bathroom and helped him as he emptied his stomach. Now, two hours later, the kid’s still inside the bathroom, but thankfully James does know what to do.

He starts the bath, going over everything his  _mamá_  told him to do over the phone in his mind, repeating it like a mantra, and making sure that the water’s warm enough to lessen the kid’s incredibly visible pain instead of worsening it. He’s kneeling on the floor next to the kid, who’s gripping the toilet seat as if his life depends on it, when the water starts running, slowly filling the tub. James turns around on his knees to help the kid undress and put him inside the tub. The process is slow, mostly because the kid won’t stop shaking on his feet. James tries his best to undress him down to his boxers, holding him up with one arm so he doesn’t fall, and then helps him into the bathtub. The kid sits down heavily, his legs clearly giving up underneath him once they make contact with the warm water. His eyes look empty and tired, and James resists the urge to join him inside just to hold him close and try to ease his pain.

Instead, he tries his best to wash the kid’s hair, rinsing the sweat and smell of alcohol and the bit of blood that somehow ended up in his hair from his bleeding nose. He gently rinses the kid’s body, going over his arms, back and chest first, avoiding adding too much pressure on the nasty bruises spread across his skin. Then he goes over the kid’s legs and feet, then back to his face. The boy doesn’t move at all through it, and keeps silent, his eyes look gone and unsettlingly empty, like he’s in a completely different place. It worries James, but he hopes that once the boy gets some rest, he’ll feel better.

When it’s time to dress the kid up, James decides that it’s something the kid should do on his own. He leaves the fresh set of pajamas on the counter of the bathroom, and waits outside as the kid dries and dresses himself up. He hears a knock on the door, and supposes that the kid has finished. He opens the door carefully, and yeah, there he is, dressed up with his hair still dripping. James takes the towel - the fluffiest he has - from the bathroom lid and gently dries the kid’s hair.

He helps the boy walk over to James’ bed, and carefully sits him there. The kid doesn’t look up, just stares down at his shaking hands, trying to stop them from trembling by pressing them against his thighs. James takes the orange juice and the pills and hands them over to the kid, who takes them bashfully and downs them together in one go, before looking up and giving James a strained smile.

“So,” the boy starts, his voice rough, a weird spark in his eyes as he looks at him, “What’s it gonna be? Do you want a handjob? A blowjob? I’m pretty good at those, not gonna lie. Or will you sell the story of how you rescued me from my antics to the press?”

James stares blankly at him for a second, his brain trying to process the kid’s words. He stares at him, almost sure his mouth is hanging wide open - okay, completely sure, if the kid’s expression is anything to go by. But hey, you can’t blame him really; this is a lot to process, because honestly?  _Qué verga esta diciendo este niño._

James clears his throat, which has gone dry. “What are you talking about?”

This time, the kid’s expression grows more confused. He raises an eyebrow. “What am I talking about? I’m talking about what you want from me. What everyone always wants from me.” The pitch of his voice went up at the end of the last sentence, making it sound like a question.

James feels his blood run cold. He looks at the kid, who is sitting as straight as he can on the bed. It’s probably to make himself look older but James is no fool. He knows the kid can’t be older than sixteen.

“How old are you?” He asks, voice slightly choked.

 _Dios_ , this is too much for him. He should have just used the  _Pomada De La Campana_  for the kid’s bruises and let him go an hour ago, instead of going through an entire range of disturbing emotions in a split second.

The boy looks at him, his warm brown eyes looking puzzled, and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

The boy stares at him, his eyebrows knitted together, obviously looking for something in James’ expression. Whatever it is, he must have found it, because his face relaxes, his hands stop gripping his pajama bottoms hard enough to turn his knuckles white, and his shoulders hunch. He looks very small and incredibly tired, the lines around his eyes obscuring his expression. James wants to do nothing but wrap him in a blanket and cuddle him, and promise that everything’s gonna be okay in the morning. He can’t do that, though. Not after the kid’s offer earlier.

A couple minutes pass before the kid talks again. “I’m fifteen.”

_Oh, Dios mío, Santismo._

“And why the hell would I want to have sex with you?” He blurts out, horrified.

It should be impossible, but the kid looks even smaller after that, and something in his face seems to break. James wants to kick himself in the balls.

“No- That’s not what I- Fuck- I mean,” He takes a deep breath, pressing his hands on each side of his temple.  _Oh Dios_ , he’s gonna have a headache soon. He can feel it coming. “I mean. You’re a, you’re a kid. You shouldn’t be offering anything sexual to anyone in the first place, and no one should be asking that from you, either. That’s just-  _No_.”

He must have found James’ explanation better, because his face shifts from wounded to surprised and then amused, even though James’ pretty sure there’s absolutely nothing mildly amusing happening right now, if anything, this is stressful and infinitely tiring.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” The kid asks, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

James frowns and huffs, “Well, let’s say that your messy look and your vomit on my bathroom floor sure aren’t helping me solve my doubts at all.”

“Fair,” the kid shrugs, and then he takes the covers from James’ bed and shifts until he’s comfortably lying under them, his back turned to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired?”

“No, not that. Why are you sleeping in my bed?”

“Because I’ve decided you’re my best friend now.”

“That isn’t bizarre at all.”

“I’m sure your whole night has been bizarre already, why does this surprise you?” The kid asks, amusement clear on his voice. “Actually, don’t answer that, your life will just keep getting weirder from now on and there’s no point in asking any questions.”

James rolls his eyes. “What should I call you, though? Kid,  _niño_ ,  _mijo,_   _idiota_ , brat?”

“ _Cállate_ , I’m sleeping.”

“ _Y el enano es latino! Aleluya!”_

The kid groans loudly, pulling a pillow over his head.

James laughs, and starts getting ready for bed. He makes sure the kid really is turned to the other side before he starts taking his clothes off, which are gross and sticky with the kid’s vomit and, wow, that’s disgusting, ugh, ugh,  _ugh_. He should probably take a bath, but  _Dios_ , he’s terribly exhausted. Once he has changed into the set of fresh pajamas, he gets into the empty bed on the other side of the room. At times like this he really is thankful he accidentally wasn’t assigned a roommate, because  _Santo Dios_.

Later, when he can feel himself drifting off, he can hear the faint sound of the kid’s voice. “Hmm? Did you say something?”

“ _Mi nombre es_ , uh, Tony. Tony Stark. You can call me Tony.”

He smiles, “James Rhodes, call me Jim.”

Tony turns, just to raise an eyebrow at him. “Jim? Yeah no.”

James rolls his eyes, “Night Tony.”

“Sure thing, Rhodey.”

Damn, this kid.

**•••**

Tony moves into James’ dorm room over the course of the week. Suddenly his dirty clothes are lying on the floor, his books and papers are scattered over the previously empty desk, and the bed starts looking like someone is finally using it. It’s kind of annoying for James, but very amusing too.

They never talk about the night James found Tony, and sometimes it feels like it never happened. Ignoring its existence is like a silent pact they made the moment they both fell asleep that night. And who knows? Maybe it’s for the best. That night…it was awful, finding Tony like that, James’ heart breaks a little more every time his mind conjures up Tony’s scarily empty face. So, no, they don’t talk about it. And James doesn’t ask.

They talk about other things instead. Slowly, they start learning a lot about each other. Talking with Tony, at first, feels like a game of 20 questions, except it’s one they started and never stop playing during the first two weeks since that night. James talks about his family; tells Tony about his brother and sister, about his mamá and his papá. He tells stories from his childhood, how he never learned to do anything besides cleaning his room and how to make coffee because his mamá wouldn’t let him do anything else. He asks Tony once or twice about his family in return, but with time, he learns not to bring Tony’s family up unprompted, and instead waits for Tony to tell him about them when he feels comfortable. Slowly, he learns that Tony’s mother is mexican, like James’ parents, and she, along with Jarvis, their butler, has taught Tony most of the things he knows.

James knows there’s more to her, and that Tony really loves her, just by the soft smile he gets everytime he mentions her. It makes something warm blossom in James’ chest everytime he sees that smile. Seeing Tony happy makes  _him_  happy.

On the other hand, James starts hating Howard all on his own, just by the way Tony stiffens and his eyes tighten around the corners whenever he mentions him. It’s a cold, unwavering hatred that pools at the bottom of his stomach; that he tries to ignore because he’s kinda afraid he’s maybe letting his feelings toward Tony run hot.

And well, isn’t that quite something.

Tony isn’t like anything James ever imagined Tony Stark would be. He doesn’t party much, nor does he go out with girls as much as everyone believes he does. He’s a genius, an absolute genius, and the expanse of his knowledge never ceases to amaze James. Tony works on personal projects a lot, as well as various projects for Stark Industries that James isn’t allowed to know about but still does because Tony never shuts up. Watching Tony work is mesmerizing, to say the least. His eyes light up with an unwavering wonder and energy, and once he starts it seems like he can’t stop. His hands moving in big expressions along with his words, and it feels like his entire body lights up with his love for science.

James’ pretty sure that Tony’s brain is above everyone else’s, but underneath all that, he’s just a normal kid. As much as someone like Tony Stark can be described as normal. And an absolute dumbass, just like James himself. Just like any other kid, Tony stays up late, sometimes doesn’t go to classes, eats a lot of junk food - which makes James sick, to be honest - lives off coffee, and doesn’t know how to do laundry.

And that’s exactly what they’re doing right now. Learning to do laundry. Because there’s only so much time you can go without washing your clothes and get away with it.

Mamá Rhodes is on the phone with them, talking them through it. James is close to giving up, if he’s being honest. But Tony is certain they can beat the washing machine if they try hard enough. So they’re still there.

By the end of the day, they start getting the hang of it, much to mamá Rhodes’ delight, who hangs up as soon as she hears the washing machine working in the background. Tony and James, on the other hand, feel like crying with relief. Then they laugh and laugh, until their bellies hurt and there are tears at the corners of their eyes.

They decide to get lunch afterwards. Tony, of course, decides on getting pizza, but James takes his phone away from him before the call goes through.

“What are you doing? Honeybear, this isn’t fair, give me my phone back!” Tony pouts, trying his best to reach the phone where James is holding it up over Tony’s head.

“First of all, stop calling me that. And second, no, we’re going to eat something healthy. You weigh fourteen pounds soaking wet, and are way too small for your age.”

“How dare you! I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much!”

“C’mon Tones, we both know our bodies deserve a break.”

Tony crosses his arms, glaring at him, “Pizza is perfect for a break.”

“Sorry, dude. It’s a hard no from me.”

They end up getting pizza anyway. And if anyone asks, James is immune to Tony’s puppy eyes, okay?

**•••**

In the nights that follow since Rhodey found him, Tony dreams of him.

Dreams of his hands running along his body; cold, long fingers pressing on his hips, his chest, holding him down, painting his skin purple and green. And Tony wakes up every single night with the taste of bile and salty tears on his tongue. So it’s easy, very easy, to just slide into Rhodey’s bed and hold onto him until the memories go, until the pain in his mind goes away. And he holds onto Rhodey, that first night when he startled him awake with his uncontrollable sobs that made him cry even harder in embarrassment, and the nights that follow, where the tears stream down, but Rhodey holds him back and whispers words of comfort in his ear. Because he cares. He cares about Tony. So it’s easy. Very easy to hold on and not let him go.

He never tells Rhodey about him. About Ty. About his hands and his lips, about his words and lies. About how he used him, only to get some money from him. About how Howard screamed himself hoarse over the phone when Ty threatened him about making his relationship with Tony and the details about it public, blaming it all on Tony. About how Tony was stupid enough to almost fall in love with Tiberius Stone. He never tells Rhodey any of it, nor how he ended up drunk off his ass at that party, a death wish almost crawling in the depths of his heart. And thankfully, Rhodey never asks.

And it’s good, this thing he has with Rhodey. It’s nice, easy.

Until it’s not.

Months pass and they become inseparable. Best friends, Rhodey says one time, and when Tony says it back, the words feel weird in his mouth, entirely too good to be true. But that’s what they are. Best friends. And Tony would never ask the universe for more, truly and irrevocably happy with what he has already, except when he does.

It’s funny, really. How people seem to know more about him than himself. Tony supposedly knows himself, though, and it’s quite obvious that he should have known something like this would happen.

_You’re greedy, you’re never satisfied, are you? Always seeking more, like a needy little bitch, don’t you?_

And it’s true. Those words Ty spat to him when Tony found out it was all a lie. Tony wanted their relationship to be true, to be  _real_. He loved Ty, and he thought Ty loved him back, but it wasn’t the case. And that’s when he realized: he always asked for more. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with him. He’s selfish, and wants to receive from everyone around him. Wants to be liked, wants to be cared for, wants to be  _loved_.

So really, it shouldn’t be a surprise when his heart starts swooping in his chest every time Rhodey looks at him, but it is.  _It is_. And it’s  _awful._  His heart dances under his best friend’s gaze, but his stomach plummets, filling with cold, unforgiving dread. And he hates himself, he does, because it all comes down to this, doesn’t it? He always wants more, it’s never enough. And what’s worse, _he_  is never enough. Not for Howard, not for Ty. And if he asks Rhodey for more, and for some magnificent reason he gets it, he would never be enough for Rhodey. Because Rhodey deserves more, far more than Tony can give. And it wouldn’t be fair to keep him, it would be selfish. And yet, Tony  _wants_.

Months pass, and almost too soon, a year goes by. The feelings carefully hidden in his chest grow with time, and he wants and wants and wants, and has nothing but himself to give back. But Tony’s broken; a mess of scattered tiny, useless pieces, and he’s not enough, never will be. Why would he?

**•••**

**Winter Break, 1986**

Just like last year, they go their separate ways during winter break. Tony couldn’t bear the thought of intruding on the Rhodes’ celebrations, even after Rhodey insisted that his  _mamá_  would be pleased to meet Tony after a year of them being friends.  He would love to go and finally meet the Rhodes family, of course, he knows that  _mamá_  Rhodes is a sweetheart and would welcome him with open arms, but everytime he thinks about it, he feels uneasy, so he decides to stay at school during break.

He occupies himself with new projects, and ignores the fact that he would really love to go see his  _mamá_. It also makes it easier to forget that Rhodey is gone, slightly more bearable. The first couple days are torture though; missing Rhodey feels like missing a part of himself. And no matter how many times they go their separate ways, it’s always the same pain the first couple days. He can’t help but feel absolutely ridiculous at the thought. He’s known the guy for, what, a year and a couple of months? Tony has always known he’s clingy, but this definitely has to take the cake.

It’s okay, though, he doesn’t need Rhodey. Tony can take care of himself and do the stuff he has to do. He doesn’t need Rhodey’s help, or hugs, or cuddles, or - or anything.

He’s gonna be okay.

Who is he kidding? He misses Rhodey too much, to the point where he can’t sleep at night. It’s absolutely, and he can’t stress this enough, ridiculous. Honestly. And yet, it doesn’t erase the fact that he misses Rhodey’s warmth beside him, his awful snores, and his grunts when Tony moves even slightly when he’s trapped between James’ arms while they sleep on his bed. It’s become like a lullaby for Tony; makes him feel safe, and cared for.

See?  _Ridiculous_. Besides, if you asked Tony, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he started being so needy for his…best friend.

Okay, that’s a lie. Well, half lie. He doesn’t remember when, but he does remember how.

Once they got comfortable enough with each other, Tony latched onto Rhodey with a pathetic need that still unsettles him to this day, but can’t avoid as much as he tries. It’s just that, well, Rhodey gives lovely cuddles. And since that first night when Tony crawled into his bed sobbing his eyes out, well, it seems like Tony just can’t get enough. He is almost always touching Rhodey in some sort of way, be it a hand on his shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, midnight cuddles, everything he can get his hands on. Tony would say it’s a need, if it didn’t make him feel extremely dumb. Rhodey, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind, eagerly returning the kisses and words and hugs and everything Tony gives him.

It settles down a need inside Tony that he didn’t even know existed.

So really, it’s not surprising that he can’t sleep without him in the room anymore. Just like it’s not surprising when he notices he’s got a crush on Rhodey. If anything, it’s just disappointing. He’s not disappointed that he can’t sleep without Rhodey - although, yes, he very much is, he would like a couple of hours of rest when he’s gone, thanks -, but he  _is_ disappointed that he’s got a crush on Rhodey. Not because James isn’t crush material, on the contrary, Tony is firmly convinced that James Rhodes is an absolute catch and anyone dating him would be the luckiest motherfucker in the whole universe.  But sadly, Tony knows the feelings aren’t reciprocated, and never will be. So there’s no use in hoarding those feelings towards his best and olny friend.

Plus, not even Rhodey would want Tony, right?

That’s another reason why he didn’t want to go to the Rhodes’; he needs to get rid of his feelings, because otherwise, they’ll just grow more and more, and will slowly kill him. Although it is a very tempting ending to his life, he really, really doesn’t want to die. Not yet, at least.

Tony has been elbow deep in grease and mechanical parts for hours now, probably days even, when his phone finally rings. He looks at the screen and panics when he recognizes Rhodey’s ID. What if his feelings are so obvious that the universe noticed and wants to fuck with him? Tony’s been through some stuff, and he wouldn’t pass this as a coincidence at all, knowing what has happened ion his life so far. He looks for something to dry his hands with, his eyes settling on one of his shirts, and mourns its loss as soon as his dirty hands touch the fabric.

Tony grabs the phone with trembling hands, it’s been a while since he’s heard Rhodey’s soft voice, and thankfully, he’s fast enough to answer the call before it disconnects. He’s greeted with the sound of _Los Peces En El Río_  blaring in the background, and the faint sound of conversation and laughter. “Honeybear, how’s it going?”

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Rhodey says, his words soft and slightly slurred, and Tony is fairly convinced that he drank way too much ponche and wine.

He ignores the pet name and the pang of hurt in his chest, “ _Ya es Navidad_?”

“ _Si,_  since two hours ago, dumbass.”

“ _Bueno, pues Feliz Navidad para ti también_ , sourpatch.”

Rhodey laughs on the other side of the line, and Tony can’t help that little smile that spreads over his face. He tells Tony that his hermanos say hi, along with mamá Rhodes and Mr. Rhodes; he even hands the phone to his mamá so Tony can talk to her. She tells Tony that she would like to meet him someday in person and that he’s welcome to comego go visit whenever he pleases. Tony smiles through it all, and agrees to go during spring break. Eventually, after a long talk with Roberta Rhodes, the phone gets handed back to James, who laughs and apologizes if it was too much. Tony assures it wasn’t, everything was really sweet. It reminds Tony of his mamá, who’ll probably call him later.

“And how are you hanging on?”, Rhodey asks, unable to keep the concern away from his voice, making Tony roll his eyes fondly. “Everything okay? You haven’t destroyed anything, have you?”

“Everything’s peachy keen, sugar,” Tony says, looking around their room. There are papers and metal pieces scattered around the room; it’s an absolute mess, but nothing’s broken. “Nothing broken. Right now science is at work and I’m very close to cracking this formula, like,  _really close,_  Rhodey.”

“That’s amazing, Tony.” Rhodey’s voice softens even more, and Tony feels like he’s melting. “I’m very proud of you.”

He can feel himself blush, and is extremely grateful that Rhodey isn’t here to witness Tony completely embarrass himself.

“S’not ready yet, so there’s nothing to be proud of, platypus. I’m more likely to make this place explode than to actually figure this out.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Rhodey says, but the words are fond and laced with amusement. The line goes silent for a moment, then, “Wait, are you in our room?”

Tony doesn’t answer.

“I thought you were in the lab,  _oh Dios_ , Tony Stark, I swear, if you blow up our room you’ll be sleeping in the hallway, don’t you  _dare_ -”

Tony laughs, loud and heartfelt, and he feels like he’s hasn’t laughed like this in days. Who would’ve thought that Rhodey’s voice would make Tony’s world brighter. So really, he can’t help it, the words come out of his mouth all on their own. “Yeah, yeah, honeybear, I love you too.”

_Oh shit._

Tony hangs up.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a [Tumblr Post](https://estebanwrites.tumblr.com/post/184956861131/thorns-and-roses) and, if you liked this work, I'd really appreciate a reblog! Comments and kudos are extremely welcome! Wanna support me and my work? [Here's the post for you](https://estebanwrites.tumblr.com/post/184142121766/support-me)! Thank you for reading!


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